Why does attention feel so rare?

When was the last time someone thanked you for paying attention to them?

Not for solving their problem or making a decision or moving things forward - just for being fully present. For not paying partial attention while monitoring Slack. Or splitting your attention between them and your mental to-do list. Complete, undivided, you-are-all-that-matters-right-now attention.

If you're drawing a blank, you're not alone. And if someone has thanked you recently, I wonder what it says about us when our presence has become remarkable enough to name?

A client told me recently, after a coaching session, "You were so focused." She said it with a mix of gratitude and what felt like surprise. This is someone who leads hundreds of people. Who sits in endless, back-to-back meetings where everyone is theoretically paying attention to each other. For her, full attention felt remarkable.

It's not that we don't care. It's just that we've built systems that reward speed over depth and responsiveness over reflection. Attention dissipates not out of choice but because we're overwhelmed by legitimate demands.

But there's a cost that remains unaccounted for.

What Gets Lost?

When attention is split, we think we're being efficient. We're handling things. But what's the difference between handling and connecting? Between processing and understanding? Between being in the room and being present in the moment?

Our teams can feel it. Not in an accusatory way - they know we're busy. But here's the kicker. It changes what they bring to us when they know they have our full attention versus when they're competing with our phone, our thoughts about the next meeting, or our mental rehearsal of a difficult conversation coming later.

With partial attention, they bring us the surface problem. The thing that can be solved quickly. They don't want to take up "too much of our time". They edit themselves to spare us the complexity.

Conversely, with full attention, they bring us the real problem. The nuance, the uncertainty, the thing they're actually struggling with. They think out loud. They go deeper. And that's where breakthroughs happen.

The same is true for our own thinking. When we're racing from thing to thing, we're in reactive mode. We're making decisions, sure, but are we actually thinking? Are we seeing patterns, making connections, noticing what's not being said?

The quality of our attention shapes the quality of our insight.

What Becomes Possible?

When someone has our complete attention, something shifts.

Problems that seemed intractable become workable because there's space to examine them from different angles. People feel valued not because we praise them but because we give them something more precious: our presence.

There's an unexpected benefit for us, too. We often feel more energised, not depleted. Sustained focus doesn't drain us the way constant task-switching does. There's something clarifying and relieving about arriving somewhere instead of perpetually feeling like we're in transit.

Attention as Currency

Attention is finite. We only have so much of it, and once this moment is gone, we can't get it back.

That's what makes it valuable. Not careful tracking or strategic allocation (though those might help), but the simple, non-negotiable fact that we cannot save it, store it, or spend it later. We can only spend it right here, right now.

Unlike almost every other resource, we're spending it whether we mean to or not. Every moment, our attention is going somewhere. The question isn't whether we're spending it. We are. The question is: are we spending it intentionally, or is it just... disappearing?

What happens when responding to everything means investing in nothing? We end up making micropayments everywhere, a little attention here and there, but not the kind of sustained investment that actually compounds into something meaningful.

Every ping, every notification, every "quick question" is a withdrawal. Because attention is finite, every fragmented moment has an opportunity cost.

What would it look like to treat attention like the scarce resource it actually is? To recognise that giving someone or something our full focus for twenty minutes might create more value than being partially present for two hours?

The Practice

This isn't about adding another system to manage or another thing to optimise. It's about noticing. About asking ourselves a few questions that shift how we show up.

Who deserves my full attention today?

Not everyone. Not everything. We can't be fully present for eight hours straight. It's not realistic, and trying only breeds guilt. Who or what deserves our complete focus today?

What would change if I gave this my full attention?

Before the next meeting, before that difficult conversation, before diving into a problem you’ve been avoiding, try pausing to ask this. Not as pressure, but as curiosity. What might you notice if you weren't also thinking about five other things? What might become possible?

Sometimes the answer is "not much - this really is routine." Fine. But sometimes we'll realize: this actually matters, and it deserves more than the scattered focus we were about to give it.

How do I feel when I'm truly present versus when I'm scattered?

Start noticing the difference in your own experience. Not to judge yourself, but to gather data.

Many of us discover that sustained attention isn't actually more tiring than constant fragmentation. Often it's the opposite. There's something clarifying, almost restoring, about fully arriving somewhere instead of perpetually being in transit.

Why This Matters

The quality of our attention shapes everything downstream. It shapes what our teams bring to us - the surface problem or the real one. It shapes the decisions we make - reactive or considered. It shapes how people feel after they've been with us - processed or seen.

As leaders, our attention is one of the most powerful tools we have. When we give someone our full focus, we're signalling what matters and creating space for real thinking.

In an age of relentless distraction and enduring pressure to do more with less, choosing to give something or someone our complete attention is almost a radical act.

The leaders who do this well don't have some secret system or superhuman focus. They've simply recognised something the rest of us keep forgetting: presence isn't a luxury for when things slow down. It's how things actually get better.

Our attention is the most valuable thing we have to give. The question is: where are we spending it?